


Unspeakable Christmas Wishes

by daftfear



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: EWE, Fluff, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:12:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2842571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daftfear/pseuds/daftfear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas Eve and Harry is stuck on a tedious assignment which is made all the worse by his snarky partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unspeakable Christmas Wishes

**Author's Note:**

> Idea struck me when I saw a prompt about parallel selves and better hair, so here you have it! A little Christmas oneshot to wish you all happy holidays and a slashy new year! I’m so glad to be back in fandom and having tons of fun! I love you all so much! <3 Thanks for putting up with me! ;) 
> 
> Happy Christmas Fandom! <3
> 
> On LJ: Unspeakable Christmas Wishes

“That’s the sixth parallel world we’ve seen. Six parallel versions of myself and every bloody one of them has better hair than I do,” Harry grumbled as the dimensional door snapped closed behind them.

“It hardly stretches the limits of the imagination, Potter,” Draco said. “Hair like yours isn’t difficult to improve on.”

Harry shot him a look and dusted off his robes. Being an Unspeakable had sounded so full of excitement and adventure. Little had he known he’d be wandering through alternate universes, checking all the inter-dimensional locks to ensure none of the timelines intersected inappropriately— _whatever that bloody meant._ It was glorified grunt work, it was bloody messy, and Harry had not appreciated the last-minute assignment. And on Christmas Eve, no less. 

Draco stood in the Hall of Doors like a model out of Witch Weekly, perfectly pristine and frustratingly dashing while Harry, as always, was covered head-to-toe in soot. The portal from the last world had opened into a chimney—of all things—and they’d surprised some very wide-eyed children waiting for Father Christmas.

Harry shook out his hair, and as the ash and soot littered the polished black tiles of the Department of Mysteries, he felt a smug sense of satisfaction. A sense quickly squelched when he looked up to Draco’s smirking face.

Harry frowned. “I hate when you have that look. It never means anything good.”

“You’ve got dirt on your nose, did you know?” he said, trying visibly not to laugh. He gestured to his nose. “Just there.”

Harry swiped at his face, wanting instead to swipe at Draco’s, and waved his partner off. How he’d ended up with Draco Malfoy as a partner was still the greatest of the all the unsolved mysteries in the Department, but Harry had promised himself he’d discover it. One day.

The popular theories were that fate was cruel, and that somewhere in the afterlife Voldemort was having a laugh. Possibly while playing chess with Dumbledore. 

“I still don’t understand why you’re here,” Harry said as Draco led the way down the hall to the final Door. “You were cleared to begin your holidays yesterday.”

Putting on a solemn air, Draco said, “duty calls, Potter. The work of an Unspeakable adheres to no mortal schedule.” And then, he added, “Plus, my partner needed me.”

“I did not!” Harry said, shaking out his right boot as he walked. “I told you I could manage on my own. This is hardly demanding work. And given that you’ve done precisely nothing to help me thus far, I think I’d have been better off alone.”

“You wound me, Potter!” Draco said, hand to his chest in feigned affront. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Did you or did you not push me out from under the Invisibility Cloak, covered in soot, in front of two Muggle children and proceed to watch and giggle as I was forced to impersonate Father Christmas?” Harry asked. Draco looked utterly unrepentant.

“That was strategic,” he answered. “And I was _not_ giggling. I was attempting to enhance the ruse with sound effects. Unfortunately, not even my brilliant improvisation could salvage that performance. You do make a dismal Santa, Potter.”

“Just count yourself lucky I didn’t hex you into a Christmas Elf to help in the deceit,” Harry said as they came upon the final Door. It was just as the others—plain, wooden, and with only a knocker shaped like a hand. It was brass, matching the handle, and Harry struck it three times, as before. 

The handle turned of its own accord, the door sliding open a crack. Draco pushed it open the rest of the way.

“Last of the lot,” he said with a sigh, and Harry told himself the hint of disappointment he heard was in his imagination. “Then you can finally pop off to _the Burrow_ and see your girlfriend and innumerable Weasleys.”

Harry hesitated, a pang in his chest. “Not seeing the Weasleys until tomorrow,” he said, trying to play it off. “Ginny and I broke up. Two months ago.” Then, catching the thread of a different thought, he turned with a smug look to Draco and added, “I thought you made it your business to know everything about me.”

Stymied for no more than a moment, Draco said, “Please, Potter, I’m an aristocrat. It doesn’t do to gloat _openly_ about the misfortune of others.”

Harry snorted. “You’re lying! You really didn’t know!”

Cheeks pink but eyes cold, Draco shook off Harry’s gleeful assertion. “Nonsense. Unspeakables never lie.”

“Draco, that’s actually the first line of the job description,” Harry said. “Must be able to lie about everything, all the time.” 

“Oh right,” he answered as though it had only just occurred to him. He cocked his head. “How did you get this job, anyway?”

Harry gestured to the Door. “I believe it’s your turn to go first.”

“I’m quite sure last time was my turn,” he said, gesturing grandly for Harry to precede him. 

“It was,” Harry said. “And then you pushed me through first instead because you didn’t want to get soot all over your posh new robes.”

Considering the doorway, Draco nodded. “Ah yes.” He glanced down at his robes again, luxuriously fitted in black with silver baubles and embroidery. “They do make me look dashing, though, don’t they? Come now, Potter, I’ve see you looking.” His smile was impish and full of danger for Harry. 

Blushing madly, Harry shoved Draco at the Door. “I have not, stop stalling!”

With a glance over his shoulder and a waggle of his eyebrows, Draco said, “there’s no harm in a healthy appreciation of the male form, Potter,” and disappeared through the portal.

Harry shut his eyes, cursing himself, Draco, and everyone else he could think of in that moment, and launched himself through the portal after his infuriating partner.

The last parallel world was slightly greyer than their world, or at least it seemed to Harry. Some worlds were brighter, others tinged in a different colour. The most jarring had been the green-tinted world where everyone looked ill, like they’d been eating Skiving Snackboxes. 

Harry took quick stock of his surroundings. Somewhere near the where Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley connect, they found themselves in a narrow passage between two shops. Harry glanced behind him to commit the Door’s location to memory. It was smallish, shaped like an arch, and painting in a peeling green. He thought vaguely that it led to the apothecary.

“Potter, hurry up, will you?” Draco whispered from the mouth of the passage. “I might very well have to do some of the work, otherwise.”

With a snort, Harry followed after him. “We can’t have that, now can we?”

Draco ducked out from the passage and waited for Harry amid the last shoppers milling in the Alley. It had begun to snow, though very lightly, and Harry looked longingly at the thick flakes. It wasn’t snowing in their London, certainly. But as the snow dusted the street and settled in Draco’s hair and on his shoulders, it leant his otherwise impatient face a kind of glow and softness. His cheeks were pink from the cold, his lips parted around a cloud of breath, and Harry stilled in the street. 

“Enjoying the view, are we?” Draco asked with a smirk once he had noticed. Harry flushed again and frowned.

“Just thinking about how snowflakes can make even you look downright angelic,” he said. “Must never trust a snowfall.”

Draco grinned fiendishly. “Angelic?” he said. “I think the term you are searching for is ‘devilishly handsome,’ actually.”

Harry shook his head and dragged Draco into the street to find their alternate selves. The Department had set up tracking spells in every world to facilitate their searches. The easiest way to test the timelines of each world was to find their own timelines in them. Draco pulled out the map with the tracking spell and pinpointed their destination.

“We seem to be in the same place,” Draco said, which was a relief. In some of the worlds, alternate-Harry and alternate-Draco had been worlds apart. The assignment meant following them to wherever they might be, which sometimes meant across Europe, to heavily populated places or to very dangerous ones, and in one, terrifying world, to the heart of Azkaban prison.

Neither Harry nor Draco wanted to revisit that one.

“Where to?” Harry asked, peering at the map over Draco’s shoulder. Draco rolled it up, out of Harry’s view with a smirk.

“I shall take the lead, I think,” he said.

“You? Do work? What does that look like?”

Draco pulled a face and ran off down Diagon Alley to a building that looked rather new. It had no counterpart in their world. It was taller than the other buildings, though not as tall as Gringotts, and shaped as though organically in sweeping lines and curving shapes. The walls were painted in swirls of pink and purple and red, and the entranceway was decorated with fairy lights and glittering pixie dust. 

Harry shot Draco an incredulous look, but Draco seemed just as surprised as he was. Deciding it was safer to be invisible from this point on, Harry threw the cloak over both of them, and they wandered, slowly, in.

Inside, the building was just as strange, but the overall sense was one of comfort and pleasure. Adorned in heavy drapes and plush carpets, Harry wondered what this place actually was. 

Draco knew, of course, having read the map, but was tight-lipped on the subject. As he studied the surroundings, Harry studied him. He licked as his lips as he gazed around the halls, his blonde hair slightly flattened by the cloak and falling softly into his eyes. His eyes caught Harry by surprised. Usually cool and sharp, they glittered with veiled excitement, as though he was anticipating something Harry was not.

“Here,” Draco said, coming to a door. There was a shiny number seven on the front. Harry pulled out his wand and cast a charm on the door to turn it to mist. They passed through the entrance silently, without disturbing a thing. There was nothing more alarming to people than a door opening and closing seemingly of its own accord.

Harry turned the door back to solid wood behind him and spun to find Draco standing frozen. He was staring at something in the middle of the room. When Harry looked over, he realized why.

The room was essentially that of an inn or hotel, but every detail of it was designed for one purpose. Harry felt his cheeks and neck flame. Swallowing hard, he took a tentative step toward the bed in the centre of the room, trying to blink away his confusion.

Their alternate selves were atop the bed, naked and sweaty and very much intertwined. Alternate-Harry straddled alternate-Draco, his legs wrapped firmly around alternate-Draco’s waist. Alternate-Draco was on his knees on the mattress, arms grasping roughly at alternate-Harry’s flesh, and he thrust smoothly, deeply into him again, and again, and again. 

Alternate-Harry moaned and panted, his hands raking up and down alternate-Draco’s back, his head thrown back in what Harry could only describe as ecstasy. The only sound was that of the slapping as they thrust together, gyrating, and moaning into one another. And the sound of Harry’s heart thudding loudly in his ears.

His throat was dry as he watched them, watched _himself_ impaled on Draco and demanding more. Harry felt his blood rush south, his trousers suddenly painfully tight. They chafed as he tried to move, so he stopped, and instead only stared. He tried to be horrified at what he was seeing—and how he was reacting to it—but he couldn’t manage. It was watching his fantasies played out in front of his eyes, in three dimensions and real time. 

Alternate-Draco thrust again and again, then reached up and dragged alternate-Harry’s head down for a kiss. Their lips locked together, hungry and desperate, and Harry thought he might faint for the lack of blood to his head.

And as though he’d switched places with his alternate self, Harry felt a hand slide around his hip to his stomach, pulling him backward. Draco leaned in close from behind, and Harry inhaled the scent of him.

“Enjoying the show?” Draco whispered, and Harry suddenly realized that Draco was hard against him, just as hard as he was. Harry took a leap of faith.

He turned to face Draco, making sure not to distance himself at all. He ground his hips into Draco’s and pressed their erections together. 

“I’d prefer to be a part of it,” he breathed, and Draco smirked in that way he does. The way Harry loves and hates and couldn’t imagine not seeing every day.

Draco leaned down and Harry leaned in, and their lips met hot and wet and full of a need Harry wasn’t aware was in him. Draco’s hands were on him, raking through his hair and down his back, and Harry found he couldn’t stop touching his partner. He wanted more, everything, but he couldn’t get enough.

Harry sucked on Draco’s tongue and nibbled at his lip and, with more determination than it would take to levitate all of Hogwarts, he pulled away. Draco pushed in again, catching Harry’s bottom lip in his teeth and sucking at it until Harry gave in again. He kissed Draco back and pressed his body against him, bucking wildly until he let out a moan.

They both stopped abruptly, their alternate versions pausing in confusion on the bed. Harry and Draco held each other, breathing silently but heavily, and waiting for the inevitable. Their alternate selves panted, glancing around, then shrugged off the sound and went back at it.

Harry and Draco separated slightly, just enough to remember their jobs. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off Draco, off his pink, swollen lips, his heaving chest, his grasping hands. 

He cast the spell as quickly as he could, nearly breathless with desire. It took three painful minutes, minutes during which Draco gave in and began sucking at Harry’s neck, kissing and licking and urging him to forget they were every anywhere else.

The spell finally flickered to an end, the timelines checked, and Harry pulled Draco into another heated kiss, Apparating them back to the spot in the Alley where they could return to their world.

Draco opened his eyes, glanced around, and said, “I thought Apparition wasn’t safe in alternate worlds?”

“Safer than you and I shagging in front of our alternate selves,” Harry said, his voice huskier than he expected. Draco smiled and pressed him into a kiss, guiding Harry backward through the portal. They popped out in their world again, in the Hall of Doors, and Draco pulled away. 

“That was a very interesting world,” Draco said. “But I think you’re still out of luck.” Harry felt his heart stop a moment, thinking Draco was rejecting him. “Seventh alternate with better hair than you have.”

“Oh, fuck off and fuck me,” Harry said. They both stilled a moment, surprised by his words. 

Draco searched his eyes. “Yes?”

Harry swallowed hard and grinned. “Yes.”

Harry pulled him close, preparing for a kiss, when the clock at the end of the hall struck twelve. He smiled.

“Happy Christmas, Draco,” he whispered. Draco smirked and captured his lips again.

“Happy Christmas, Santa,” Draco said. Harry laughed into the kiss and Apparated them both to another bedroom. He had a gift to unwrap.


End file.
